nagia: (ffxii; basch; viva la revolution)
I don't know whether this is an "FML" moments or an "I love my life" moment. It's sure as hell one of those "I will laugh about this later moments."

Except I'm laughing about it now.

Guys, I just spent ten minutes fighting with a key, a deadbolt, and two leashed dogs determined to drag me all over the neighborhood while I tried to get us in the house.

Once I gave up on the front door, I squeezed myself and them through a broken gate into the back yard. Then I wound up squeezing myself into the garage via dog door.

Yes. That's right. I just entered my own home via dog door.

Even better, it was completely unnecessary. Had I stopped to look at my keyring, I would have seen two nearly-identical keys: one silver, one bronze. The silver key opens the external garage door. The bronze one opens the front door.

So I could quite easily have gotten in through an actual door, rather than the dog flaps, had I stopped to think for more than twenty seconds.

You may now point and laugh.
nagia: (gungrave; grave; enchained in sorrow)
Well, the day is over. I got out of work at four, but I didn't get home until seven and then didn't actually get to sit down until nine.

Today was pretty much the worst day I've had at Receivia since I was working in A/R. Logged back into all my systems after a half-hour lunch (I get an hour M-F), only to discover that the facility had completed an open professional bill for me, then copied it and finished that account's institutional bill as well. The next seven accounts in a row had already been billed and 'closed out' by the facility, despite having just been assigned to us yesterday. Because I'm paranoid and take things personally, and was also the only person billing Columbia today, I had a small attack of "OH MY GOD THIS IS MY FAULT I'M NOT DOING THIS FAST ENOUGH OR WELL ENOUGH AND THEY'RE GOING TO COMPLAIN ON MONDAY."

Broke down and cried at my desk. Then I tried to log into one last system and "flip" bills. Spent forty-five minutes fighting with it to no avail. Cried more. One of the team leads fought with it for another ten, and then told me that facility had pulled all our assigned encounters and flipped them for us, because they're assholes.

Around three, one of my fellow inmates -- the only other person to share my row -- looked up and went, "Katie, you do look like you're about to cry." The look of surprise on her face when I told her I already had, more than once, was almost a bright spot, except then my systems kicked me out.

All told, I had an hour of downtime and didn't make goal. I did get exactly 80% of goal, though, which I guess isn't bad for your first time on a facility. Especially if you're overtired, overstressed, and just generally overworked all to hell.

The news gets even better. Starting Monday, I'm now required to put in fifty-six hours a week. They don't really care how I manage it, I just have to get the hours. Which would be fine, I guess, except I'm supposed to cram two extra days's worth of hours into... one extra day.

There are days I could swear this place is deliberately trying to make me feel stupid and worthless.
nagia: (ffxiii; fang; there is a demon in me)
So, Ralph's fiancee brought her grandson up for the weekend. At some point, my mother volunteered me to help him with his reading comprehension, since he doesn't have any. Which, you know, fine. I'm not thrilled with being volunteered to do something that I don't really know how to do, and "It'll be fine! :D You're great with little kids! :D" is not particularly comforting.

No joke. I wanted to say, "Uhm, that's not how this works," but I figured I'd at least give it a try. It never hurts to try, right? And at the very least, I'd keep him from irritating the hell out of the neurotypical members of the household.

Then he got here. Turns out in addition to his reading comprehension/ADHD problems, he also has night terrors. So the first night he was here, he woke up screaming at about two. Once I was more awake, I felt really bad for him. I still do. The worst part of it is, he doesn't even remember what he saw. That's such a fucked-up thing for a nine year old kid to deal with.

So last night, Marge left him a nightlight and also left my bathroom light on. As far as I know, that did the trick for him.

Unfortunately for me, just about the only thing I require (apart from medicinal help) to fall asleep is darkness. Not "near darkness". Not "mostly darkness." I mean I need the room to be pitch black. I stopped using regular alarm clocks because they keep me awake -- and even the teeny tiny light HK-47 makes when he's charging can keep me up, if I'm in an insomnia cycle.

So between his nightlight, the bathroom light, and the family of mice throwing some kind of goddamn mouse disco in my air vent, I didn't get to sleep until around four. I know I was awake at three thirty. And then I got up at six.




TL;DR: HughesNet licks syphilitic donkey balls and I still haven't completed my download of Mint )

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